Chapter 3 #3
When Leanne stayed planted in the chair, her expression unyielding, Drake suppressed a smile because. Good for you, young woman. “Is there a problem here?”
“Listen, buddy, butt ou—” Recognizing Drake, Riley straightened. “Ah, sorry. We, uh, are just… Leanne doesn’t…”
A teaching moment wasn’t to be wasted. “Did you negotiate an agreement with your companion?” Drake asked gently.
“I… Well—”
“He said this would only be a tour.” The young brunette slid her chair away from the table and farther away from Riley. “Now he wants to do a scene. He lied to me.”
“Have you been together long?” Drake asked carefully.
“First date.” Her lips pressed together. “Last date.”
There would be no coming back from this mistake.
“Hey, I just wanted to—” Riley broke off when Drake crossed his arms over his chest and gave him The Look. “Right. C’mon, Leanne. I’ll take you home.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” She pulled out a phone. “I’m getting an Uber.”
Drake looked around. As usual, security was observing. Drake raised his hand, and the stocky ginger hurried over. “Master Drake, can I help?”
“Oui. Please escort the young lady out and ensure she is safely in her ride.”
“Sir, of course.”
Leanne turned to Drake. “Thank you so much. I was getting really scared.” Her eyes were moist.
Riley’s expression turned surprised. Dismayed. “Scared?”
“You did very well at protecting your boundaries.” Drake assisted her to her feet, and Shawn accompanied her out.
When Drake turned his attention to Riley, the aspiring Dom shook his head. “I-I thought she wanted to be pushed around. She said she was submissive.”
“Not. Necessarily. Submissives enjoy giving control to”—Drake held up a finger—“someone they choose. Someone they trust.”
At the emphasis on the word trust, Riley flinched.
“If you aren’t that person, they are no more submissive than you are.”
“She—she trusts me.”
“Not any longer, Riley.” Drake shook his head. “You brought her here, then broke your agreement and tried to verbally push her into something she didn’t want.”
“She… Fuck, she did say no.” Riley slumped in the chair. “I can’t believe I kept pushing her.” Riley’s remorse appeared sincere. His face had even gone pale. “She was scared of me.”
Drake sat down at the table. “I was going to tear up your membership card.”
Riley sank farther into the chair and didn’t argue.
Oui, he could yet turn the attitude around. “So… If you repeat the beginning Dominant course as well as the consent workshop, I’ll give you a second chance to prove you’ve learned from your mistake.”
Relief filled Riley’s expression. “I… Yeah, I’ll take the classes again and get my act together.” He held out his hand. “Thank you, Master Drake.”
After shaking hands, Riley left for reception to sign up for classes.
Drake rose and headed for the bar.
“Oh, Master. It’s good to see you here again.” The high-pitched coo was like gravel abrading his skin.
He nodded to Justine. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, and lovely, but now he was as affected by her beauty as he was by a piece of perfectly sculpted ice. “Justine. Good evening.” He tilted his head at the other two submissives at her table and moved away, allowing no opportunity for conversation.
When he broke off their relationship last winter, everything had been said.
He shook his head. Clear-sightedness about her own behavior, let alone anyone else’s, wasn’t in her nature. He was the one who’d been a fool.
And gotten burned.
Damned if he’d try again for a long, long time.
Three bottles of soda in hand, Ray slid between the clusters of people near the bar. MacKensie had stopped to talk with someone while Hope secured them a table.
Ray was concentrating on the drinks and keeping her feet moving. If she didn’t focus, she’d end up in the center of the place, staring at everyone.
And freezing in place. Because if she thought about it hard, she’d be terrified there would be someone here from that night. One of those who’d assaulted her at the university.
Only, maybe not here. Hope had assured her the club had rules. Lots and lots of rules and people to enforce them. This sure wouldn’t be the bastards’ kind of place.
It’s good; it’s all good.
Now be cool. She pulled in a breath. Right. I go to BDSM clubs every day. See naked people walking around all the time. Sure, I do.
“Oops, sorry,” a person muttered from her right and then there was the clang of something hitting the floor.
Ray glanced over and saw a skinny man with his head through a hole in an oversized serving tray carried on his shoulders. His wrists were cuffed to the tray. And some jerk had bumped him hard enough to knock a couple of bottles of water off.
With no way to pick up the drinks, the poor guy was battling tears.
“Hey, hey, hey, be cool, dude.” Ray set her three bottles at her feet and picked up the waters and set them carefully on the tray. “Here’s your waters. Did anything else fall?”
“N-no.” He was snuffling, tears on his cheeks.
The poor baby. She grabbed a couple of napkins off a table and wiped his cheeks. “Is your Dom person really mean? Do I need to beat them up?”
Big brown eyes still swam with tears, but he was starting to smile. “No, he’s really wonderful. I just w-wanted to do everything perfectly.”
“It’s hardly your fault when some dumbass runs into you. If your Master person is so great, he’ll understand. And you’re all fixed anyway.”
The guy’s smile was truly there now. “Thank you. Really.”
She patted his shoulder, picked up her drinks, and looked around for Hope.
Ah, over there at a small round table with MacKensie.
“I made it.” Ray set the drinks in front of the other two and took the seat between them.
“We saw,” Hope said. “Did you get BetaBoi settled? He’s a total sweetie. And he tries so hard.”
“Still young,” Ray said. “Give him a few years and he’ll be more cynical than we are.”
MacKensie snorted. “He’s probably all of two years younger than you.”
Opening the bottle and taking a good hefty gulp of the ice-cold Coke, Ray heaved a pleased sigh and started to look around.
And felt her eyes getting bigger. “You said the actual BDSM stuff is downstairs?” she asked in disbelief. The upstairs was plenty kinky enough.
When they first came in, she’d heard the music, seen the crowded dance floor, the people around the bar at the back, and it seemed like a normal nightclub. Along with relief, she’d almost been disappointed.
But then there’d been a couple of naked people.
Here, on the other side of the dance floor, there was a stage with an actual flogging going on. And people…
To her left, a woman in skintight black vinyl tugged on a leash to get her dog to follow her. However, the dog happened to be a robust man on all fours with a canine muzzle, ears, and a perky tail. Seeing how the tail was secured made her own asshole tighten up.
“We’ll go downstairs soon,” Hope said. “After you acclimate to the easy stuff.” She and MacKensie exchanged grins.
Ray sniffed. “Patronizing brat.” Yet she really was relieved to take things slowly. So she sat back and continued to look around.
Some of the fetwear was amazing. Some of the men were too.
Like the darkly handsome man who stood nearby, talking to a couple sitting at a table. He had flecks of gray in his black hair and goatee, so was probably in his late 30s, but mmm, that kind of leanly powerful musculature made her want to switch to sculpture.
When he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, her mouth went dry. Talk about intimidating…and he wasn’t even talking to her.
After a brief conversation, he lifted his hand, and a guy in a security vest hurried over to escort the woman out. The woman appeared almost tearfully grateful. Had Mr. Intimidation rescued her from her date?
The younger man might or might not be a Dominant, but the older one sure was.
Authority radiated from him like solar flares as he focused on the younger man.
Talked. The younger one’s hostility changed soon enough to nodding in agreement to whatever Mr. Authority said.
That was some seriously effective diplomacy.
Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze away and checked out the rest of the room.
On the low stage, the Top had switched to flashy two-handed flogging, what Hope called Florentine style. The bottom wore a leather jockstrap and was in la-la-land with a happy smile on his face. The rhythmic sound of the flogger punctuated with the dark electronic music of Alien Vampires.
Her view was blocked by a man walking by. He was dressed as a police officer, but the short-sleeved, uniform shirt was made of black latex—the better to display impressive biceps. His male companion wore a dark leather chest harness and nothing else.
“All this black clothing. Gods help us, we’re surrounded by Goths,” she murmured.
Hope giggled. “It’s an easy way to differentiate Doms and Tops from submissives and bottoms. Bottoms and submissives go for more color—and less clothing.”
“Lots less sometimes.” MacKensie motioned to a man and woman in miniscule G-strings trailing a person dressed all in black.
“I thought I’d stick out like a sore thumb dressed in these clothes.
” Ray glanced down. She’d topped the silky black boxers she sometimes wore to lounge around the house with a green-and-black overbust bodice from her college Renaissance faire days.
“Instead, I fit in pretty well. Thank you for the advice.”
“You can never go wrong with cleavage and showing off legs.” Hope tipped her soda up to get the last sip. “Done. Are you ready to go downstairs now?”
No. No, I’m really not. Goosebumps rose all over her body. “Maybe we could dance for a while?” And avoid the BDSM stuff…
MacKensie’s eyes narrowed. “I recognize that expression. Have you had problems in the past with BDSM…or maybe with men?”
“Haven’t we all?” Ray managed to say lightly. “Sometimes I wish my body preferred women, but being lesbian would only be a different set of problems.”